Thanks to AquaEclipse, NadiaJA627 and a guest for reviewing. Sorry for the extra wait, I was dealing with a headache, stress, writer's block, and I had to change a lot of stuff in this chapter. Hope this, my longest chapter yet, makes up for the wait. Now, on with the show!

CAR couldn't remember a time when he was this happy.

Hell, he's been through so much, went through so much pain, dealt with the pain of everyone ignoring him and pretending that he and his problems didn't exist so they wouldn't have to deal with his sorry excuse for a country, live every day with his mind broken beyond repair, the voices in his head battling each other for control, a pitifully weak and skinny body, and always in agonizing hunger that he'd completely forgotten what true happiness felt like.

The closest he ever felt to feeling some sort of happiness or enjoyment… No, no, that's wrong. The last time he ever felt some sort of happiness or enjoyment in recent times was the village incident, which still terrified him to this day.

He briefly considered out of desperation killing himself by eating his entire population somehow, getting rid of his hunger in the process, but he quickly realized that as much as the world liked to ignore him, they'd never let him get away with that. Not to mention CAR feared the consequences if he failed.

He'd lost all hope for any chance for peace, recovery and a meal for quite a while now.

That's how it was until they showed up.

They showed up at his door, along with a reluctant DRC who came solely for CAR's sake…! (CAR always felt this warm, pleasant feeling in his chest whenever DRC showed concern for him, because very few people did) CAR felt terrified when they did.

He was really hoping they would destroy him, put his miserable existence in this god-forsaken place out of his misery. But then they treated him kindly and they made an offer CAR couldn't refuse. Well, he doubted he had much of a choice anyway, but he didn't care about that now.

Then they gave him human neat.

CAR remembered that his mind went blank once he fully realized that, and he devoured the juicy-bloody-red-raw-tasty-delicious meat as fast as he could to feed his empty stomach. It tasted so good, just like it did on that day. It tasted so delicious and tasty and good and god, there's really no way to truly describe it. And guess what? It worked! It worked it worked it worked itworkeditworkeditworkeditworkeditworkeditworkeditworkeditworked!

He's still hungry, but he's been living with this feeling long enough to notice that it's slowly disappearing!

And… And… when he finished eating, there was this strange feeling in his body.

The warmth in his chest as well as in the rest of his body, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach, the feeling of his heart fluttering, the giddying feeling in his dead that's threatening to overwhelm him, the uncontrollable amazing urge to keep grinning as he was now no matter how painful it felt, the unending amount of giggling and laughter escaping from his mouth…

This… this was joy and happiness… this was what he's been missing, what's been kept from him, for all these years…

"…Aha… Hahahahahahahahahaha… ahaha… ha… hahahaha… hahahaha… Hahahahahaha… hehehe… Ahahaha… Hahahahahaha…!"

The others, DRC, Nigeria and South Africa were busy talking about something or someone, but they didn't mind CAR's happiness. South Africa even patted his head and smiled at him! CAR could vaguely hear the conversation they were having in the background, but he's too drunk on euphoria to make out what they were saying.

He could have sworn that he caught them saying 'finish what I started', 'bring him back', and 'we need to start now'.

But CAR wasn't interested in asking right now, nor was he concerned. Wherever they were going, there's going to be blood and meat, and he couldn't ask for more. Although… he still needed to deal with the voices and the government and the warlords if he wanted to think clearly.

But for now, CAR's just going to laugh and enjoy his happiness.

/ / / / /

"Really? That cocky jerk is on the phone right now?! And he's pissed about the diary? Awesome! Put him on speaker, Monaco!"

Egypt really did have to wonder where Belize got her attitude.

Monaco's sudden announcement made him feel obligated to forget his conversation with Hungary for the time being, though from the pained look Hungary gave him, she didn't seem to be looking forward to it. Egypt was still determined to get the answer out of her though.

Everyone began to gather together too see what'll happen, including an eager Belize abandoning her poker game along with her fellow Central Americans by throwing her cards in the air and sprinting toward them, and an anxious Seychelles deciding to stand close to Egypt. The Caribbean girls stood further away than the others, not too keen on speaking to Haiti again. And finally, China and Russia, the only G7 nations in the room.

Monaco gingerly handed him the phone, looking rather queasy, and gave him a worried look. But as soon as he took it, he nearly wounded up deaf.

"Where is it? WHERE ARE YOU HIDING IT?!"

Several nations cringed or covered their ears at Haiti's roaring voice, including Egypt who winced at the sound, with Seychelles tightly grabbing ahold of his arm.

"I don't hear answers!" Haiti barked, becoming even more frustrated, and he growled. "You heard me, loud and clear. Where is my diary? And don't you fucking dare try to lie to me! I know you have it, so give it back to me!"

"Privet, comrade, Haiti," Russia greeted in his ominously cheerful way at the phone while Egypt palmed his face. "So nice to see you again after thinking you were dead, da? I am not very happy about being lied to."

"Oh, go suck a horse and fuck off, Russia," Haiti spat angrily without an ounce of hesitation, surprising Russia. "I'm not in the mood, and you do know that I can't feel your aura over the phone, right?"

Russia frowned in mild disappointment at the piece of technology while Romania, fond of dark humor and putting down Russia as always, laughed at the look on his face.

"Feels rough, doesn't it? That your good ol' intimidation shtick's completely useless now," Romania commented with a dry grin, tipping his hat slightly, and it broadened when Russia gave him a fierce glare. "Hey, hey, just saying, just saying. Not a lot of nations have guts these days."

"Romania, this is not the time!" Algeria scolded him angrily.

"Ah, relax, Algeria," Romania scoffed, briefly showing his fangs before sneering down at the phone. "So, you were saying?"

"My diary. You have it and I want it back," Haiti said, sounding like he was forcing it through gritted teeth, and he didn't sound amused in the slightest. "So, when are you going to give it back to me?"

"What diary?" Belize asked nonchalantly, arms behind her head. "We didn't even know you had one until you started screaming at us like a whiny brat. I'd tease you for having a diary, if this wasn't serious situation and if you weren't a psychopath, but I won't. So, if you're done-"

"My diary, you rat!" Haiti again furiously forced through gritted teeth. "That old book that the French bastard gave me when I was his damn colony, and one of the few objects he gave me that I didn't throw into the ocean. The diary that I poured my heart and feelings into! The diary I thought was lost after the earthquake destroyed my house!"

"Wow, great idea, insult the very people who supposedly have the thing that you apparently really care about. Great strategy!" Belize snarked, flashing a mocking thumbs-up even though Haiti couldn't see her. "That definitely won't cause any consequences…"

Egypt almost expected Haiti to snap, but he instead chuckled darkly. "And your strategy is better?

"If you want it back so badly, then why not just teleport here and take it back by force?" Algeria pointed out, looking rather annoyed.

"He can't." Egypt stated, feeling a slight urge to smile, but didn't act on it.

Algeria stared at him puzzledly. "What do you mean he can't?"

"Even though he knows where we are, there is one very good reason why he wouldn't want to go," Egypt said. "We're too far away. If he's back at his house, and he decides to teleport all the way here, he'll wound up feeling exhausted and in no condition to simply barge in."

Haiti made some sort of disgruntled noise, and snarled, "Wi, that's right. Happy? Now, I'll say it again, give it back to me."

"And why would we give it back to you?" Algeria asked skeptically, her arms crossed.

"Oh, I don't know…" Haiti answered sarcastically, no doubt rolling his eyes. "Maybe so you'll keep all your limbs in all the right places? I've done it before with my dolls, you'd be surprised how creative I can be. What about your sanity? Your genitals? Hell, your own lives?! Didn't that cross your minds? Although, there are fates worse than death…"

Haiti trailed off for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Tell me, do you even need it anymore?" Haiti asked coolly.

"What are you going on about?" Egypt asked.

"You pests got what you wanted, non?" Haiti snapped, asking them mockingly, and he laughed sarcastically. "Getting the evidence that you needed to expose us, then exposing us… you actually did it. Hahaha… fantastic. Congratulations, really. Though I have no idea why that man thought that giving you my diary was necessary. I mean, honestly, off all things he chose that for you. Does he want all of you to…"

Then he abruptly trailed off, leaving the room in awkward silence. Though he wasn't talking, Egypt could have sworn he heard Haiti mutter under his breath.

"You know what? I just changed my mind." Haiti announced calmly, no trace of his earlier anger in his voice, but he sounded rather eerie. "Keep the diary."

"What?"

/ / / / /

Haiti hanged up before he could hear any more exclamations or questions from the rats, and with a twisted smile he nonchalantly tossed the thing aside and buried his face in his hands.

Let them think what they want. There's no way they could destroy the diary, not while… and Haiti's sure… very sure that Biafra must have done something, maybe a seal of some kind, to make sure that pandemonium wouldn't occur when the rats do something stupid.

He seriously doubted that they'll decide to discard it, anyway. No, no, no, how could they ever want to get rid of that little piece of evidence. If something happens to the other things, whatever they may be, they're going to need it. Besides, they must be thinking that if that man went through the trouble of getting it for them, then there must be some very important reason why getting rid of it would be a bad decision.

Haiti wished they'd try though. He really wanted to see it horribly backfire on them…

Haiti shuddered in excitement at the thought and licked his lips as he barely held in his giggles. Trembling, he lifted his head to come to face with what he proudly called the largest, most elaborate, darkest and best voodoo altar one will ever see. It encompassed his entire room. Haiti took it upon himself to put all the necessary, including his favorite part…

…the dolls.

They all sat neatly, unmoving, in orderly fashion throughout the room, and there were over more than a hundred in all, and they all stared at him with their colored buttons for eyes. The materials used to make them varied at times, but they all had one thing in common.

Each of these dolls were modeled after nations.

Everyone was there.

Every single one of them.

…Guess what they were for.

Then, he lifted his head and laughed wildly.

Ah, but anyway, back to the main topic at hand…

He still wanted the diary back though, but now that he realized that the rats having the diary may not be such a bad development after all, he felt no need to hurry. But the diary will be back in his hands one day and he will finally see them again.

He laughed even harder.

Stupid. He felt so very stupid for not realizing that little tiny fact earlier, and now he may have risked giving them another reason to fear the diary. He was so caught up in his rage… rage at the discovery that the old, but dear and precious, thing had survived the earthquake years ago.

Haiti remembered that day all too well, when he found his house reduced to rubble after the chaos and spent countless hours desperately digging up the remains of his house and his items in search of his diary. When he finally gave up, he broke down in tears. He felt his heart break and tear him apart from inside out from the guilt, the anger…

All these years he was tearing apart his own arms and legs, then stitching them back together for nothing. All that guilt, that anger, and self-inflicted punishment, and for what? Nothing.

Haiti will not let him get away with this unpunished.

"Biafra… Biafra… Biafra… You really are just as stupid as Nigeria says."

Haiti didn't know Biafra like Nigeria did, but he still knew him and hated him for many reasons. Mainly because Nigeria hated him, and that Biafra had the nerve to try to secede, further breaking Nigeria's mind in the process. But the point was that Haiti knew that Biafra wouldn't willingly put people he had no reason to hurt in danger. Well, Egypt may be an exception, since he helped Nigeria against Biafra's rebellion (Haiti nearly died laughing when he realized this).

So why? Why did he take the diary?

"Hmm. Guess I'll have to ask him that when I find him." Haiti said to no one in particular.

That's right. Haiti may have mostly gotten over his little fit of rage, but he still needed to have a little talk with the damn man, ask him why he did what he did and how could he be so damn stupid-!

Oh, he had no doubt that Nigeria's punishing Biafra for his disobedience, not to mention for yet another betrayal. So, Biafra's probably somewhere, likely in Africa, choking on his own phlegm and blood as Nigeria teared him apart from the inside. So, Haiti could rest easier for now.

But there were still things to do. Much, much to do! There was still the matter of Bahamas and Saint Lucia, which has been ignored for far too long and Haiti could feel whatever pity he felt for them slowly evaporate since they contributed to the Order's exposure… and that could not go unpunished. And what's this about France having been healed?! That's not how it was supposed to go! France's suffering was meant to last longer much longer than that! It wasn't easy finding a snake in the middle of Paris, you know! And-

No.

No.

No.

What Haiti needed to do now was pray, pray that things will go exactly the way he hoped they would.

That Bahamas and Saint Lucia wind up suffering from a mysterious 'tummy ache'.

That France will wake up with the excruciatingly painful feeling of nails piercing his stomach.

That he'll finally see his dearest friends from the other side again.

With a smile, Haiti bowed before the altar and the dolls, and began muttering.

/ / / / /

Off all the things France gave to Haiti when he was a little colony, he never thought the boy would keep this.

France remembered when he gave this old thing to a skinny, dirty, and tired Haiti, Saint-Domingue back then. The idea to give little Saint-Domingue a book to… well, to do whatever he could want to do, as well France's decision to act upon it, was mostly done on a whim to be honest. But the main purpose was for Haiti to practice French, his new civilized language.

He remembered that Haiti wasn't so keen on doing anything with it at first, possibly out of stubbornness… or perhaps because he barely knew how to read, let alone write, until France had to sigh pompously and sit down to teach him how to read and how to write the language of love. Every time France came in one of his rare visits to the colony, he'd always find Haiti writing in it at some point.

The boy would never tell him what he was writing, though.

Apparently, Haiti had tried to curse France many… many times, but apparently mostly with no success, much to the boy's frustration. France wouldn't exactly agree with that. One of the reasons he seldom visited Haiti then was because whenever he did visit, he always had unpleasant and traumatizing encounters with pinworms in his washroom, spiders in his hair whenever he flirted with women in the colony, and often getting hit by a terrible storm on the trip back to Europe.

France wondered whether he should have told Haiti all that back then. It would have given the troubled boy some joy in his bleak and chaotic home.

He began to feel guilt over selfishly neglecting his former charge even more over such petty reasons, but then he realized, to his despair, that his absence was what Haiti wanted all along. Haiti knew that France would be vain enough to…

Out of pain and misery, he gritted his teeth and shook his head.

The entry was filled with him bragging and gleefully believing that the French Revolution was the glorious ultimate result of all the curses he set upon France and all the prayers he gave to his spirits and gods.

One by the name of Ezili Dantor, was later again mentioned in the next entry, attributing the success of the slave revolt of 1791 to this deity. France frowned at this, even though he was dealing with his own problems at the time, he knew the details regarding the Haiti's revolution.

Haiti had organized a secret voodoo ceremony with the help of a high priest on a night of a storm that ended up having a great turnout as thousands attended it, which Haiti wrote in absolute delight and there were some spots throughout the page. God, did Haiti shed tears of joy? An astoundingly lovely woman, as Haiti kept affectionately referring to her, sacrificed a pig, Haiti made a pact with this demon, which followed a grand feast in honor of the being.

It really pained him how everything was starting to make sense now.

Granted, there were several parts that didn't make the slightest of sense, case in point the diary entries that were littered with nothing but scrawls and symbols and there were even a few scorched pages. Despite his curiosity, France dreaded to the answer.

Then he came across what could be the strangest page of all.

Instead of an entries or just nonsensical symbols or scrawls, there were only dozens of talismans stuck over a strange symbol on the page, nearly covering it completely.

DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE TAKE OFF ANY OF THESE TALISMANS – The Benefactor

/ / / / /

Mongolia hated China's People's Liberation Army for many, too many, reasons.

Let him put it simply. There was the obvious reason of course, because they were China's army and that it was riddled with nothing but irritating machines (and that's coming from someone who's been compared to a robot in terms of humanity more than once). Then there was the laughable and pretentious name for the army, which made Mongolia scoff one too many times.

Then there was the fact that despite it all, these machines were very well-trained. That might just be what Mongolia hated most of all.

They were good. They were all good… for the most part, he'll give China that. They put up a decent fight, he'll also give them and China that. However, and unfortunately for the humans, Mongolia was stronger, faster, more durable, able to take half-a-dozen bullets and still run, and better.

So, they're good, but not good enough.

He thought this as he bashed PLA soldier's head against the wall, making sure to keep the human's forced open so he could feel his teeth shatter or get roughly knocked off and if possible, get his gums scraped by the harsh surface, to add more to the pain.

He couldn't get sadistic pleasure out of it for long, as there were more.

So, Mongolia acted quickly and fired back at them.

As expected, resolving Hong Kong and Macau's little situation wasn't going to be easy, but Mongolia and his people were making progress.

North Korea also sent help from his very formidable military, though no bombs or anything of the sort, they didn't want to hurt the boy. Besides, he's sure that Hong Kong's has already been dealing with enough with the PLA.

Mongolia felt bad that he couldn't exactly do much for the time being, or rather, how he's currently not quite strong enough to be of much help.

It's truly embarrassing how much he had to fall to keep up the act. While he admittedly didn't really miss his empire that much, an opinion shared with Turkey, he still resented his current 'state' and how he had to present his country to the rest of the world. Hell, don't get him started on his dependence on China…

Mongolia sneered in disgust and fired again.

Oh, but Mongolia was hardly bitter or furious about it. He'll be able to redeem himself soon enough. All he had to do was to awaken that old Mongol warrior spirit and ferocity in his humans again, and things will vastly improve in his favor from then on.

Mongolia delivered a swift kick to the leg, and he quickly used to as a chance to brandish his knife and stab the fool in the crotch. He gave a brief, high-pitched laugh once the human cried out his pain, and he decided that wanted to do it again.

Unbeknowst to China and Russia, Mongolia's entire economy didn't actually depend almost completely on them. He's found much better trading partners in his allies. Besides, he's going to get China's and perhaps a bit of Russia's land soon, so it doesn't matter if Mongolia spent a few weeks or even a whole year without those two.

Their blood then splattered the walls along with a few small bits and chunks of meat as the humans' screams rang in the air, music to Mongolia's ears.

Whatever Mongolia could only buy from those two, he'll soon get them for himself.

Breathing heavily, Mongolia surveyed the area around him, particularly at the bloody mess all around him, and with a small smile and a crushing stomp to one of the humans' heads, he left to resume his search for the missing Hong Kong.

The boy also wasn't answering any of his calls, and knowing Hong Kong, this didn't bode well, he thought grimly.

Mongolia narrowed his eyes dangerously and he got back on his feet, then he resumed. He began to feel concern when Hong Kong abruptly stopped calling him back, but Mongolia assumed that the boy was likely busy slitting the throats of the soldiers from the People's Liberation Army or running away from a storm of bullets to pay attention to his phone.

Still, he had a very bad feeling that…

Mongolia shook his head and went on, and he hastily took out his phone. There was an easy solution to this problem. He'll just track down Hong Kong's phone, rush over there before the PLA do, and pull him out of there to safety. It's obvious that the SARs will be punished harshly if China manages to capture them.

If he didn't, and it turned out that the PLA found him and took him away before Mongolia could…

Well… it's time to remind the Chinese people why their ancestors feared him back in the day.

/ / / / /

Singapore was having a surprisingly pleasant enough good night's sleep, despite her chaotic day, and Malaysia talking in his sleep. It helped that she was with people she considered friends and family. It somewhat lessened the amount of stress she was feeling at her situation. Then again, perhaps it was because of her situation that she's tired in the first place.

Many times, her mind wandered back to her home. She wondered if her boss or anyone else had noticed that she was missing. They must have at least figured it out by now, especially considering that Singapore was never late for her work. Hopefully Macau didn't hurt anyone in his plan to capture her.

Indonesia encouraged her to forget about it for the time being, and rest, saying that they'll ask Philippines tomorrow. Singapore would have scoffed if she weren't so tired. Yes, because Philippines had been a great help to them and didn't ignore them whenever they had a question. In fact, Philippines didn't even seem sure if he hated or liked them. Giving up, she went to her bed and went to sleep almost immediately.

But she was woken up when the door burst open.

Singapore, being the lightest sleeper, immediately gasped and sat up in alarm, looking around frantically. East Timor woke up too, and she gave a small scared shriek at the surprise. Last but not least, she heard Malaysia stir and groan.

In a moment of panic, she feared that it was someone out to kill them.

"I'm sorry!"

But that panic soon evaporated when Singapore realized that it was only Indonesia, and she would have fainted back into her bed in relief if weren't for Indonesia's appearance. Her long hair was unkempt and her eyes puffy from… crying?

"Kira…?" Little East Timor asked drowsily, rubbing her eyes. "Is that you?"

Indonesia sniffed, so she was crying, and nodded. "Yes, yes, it's me, Tina. I'm-I'm sorry for waking you all up, it's just…"

"Wait. Indonesia, please wait…" Singapore pleaded, taking a few moments to try to get rid of her drowsiness. "First of all, why were you outside? And second, what happened? Why are you crying?"

Indonesia's expression became pained as she went to her bed and sat down. "I'm not sure if I want to talk about it…"

"But won't talking about your problems can help you feel better?" East Timor asked worriedly, plopping down next to Indonesia.

"I don't know." Indonesia admitted.

"Well, why not? We're here for you."

"I…" Indonesia bit her lip. "It's complicated, Tina, very complicated…"

Narrowing her eyes, Singapore left her head walked over to Indonesia, gently taking her hand. "Try us. I'd like to hear something that could top what we found out."

"C-Chinh- South Vietnam is alive, Singapore." Indonesia said softly, wiping a few tears and gripping Singapore's hand tightly. "He's alive and I just talked to him."

…Oh.

At first, Singapore had to blink tiredly a few times at Indonesia, mostly because she was drowsy therefore it's harder for her to react on time and because she couldn't believe what she just heard Indonesia say. She stared at her friend, waiting for her to correct herself or say that it was a joke, because such a thing couldn't be true, right?

But Indonesia would never joke when it came to South Vietnam, wouldn't she? No, she'd never do such a thing. And besides, judging from the pain and seriousness in Indonesia's eyes and the tears that kept pouring down her cheeks, she wasn't joking.

Staring at Indonesia in shock with her mouth gaping in shock, Singapore gave a heavy sigh and rubbed her head.

"M-Maybe you should start from the beginning."

/ / / / /

No matter how much it kept torturing him, Canada couldn't help but think back to the things that happened between him and America, and with each flashback and realization as he put the pieces together, he felt himself falling more and more into despair. He just wanted answers, the truth, but it hurt so much!

And now he felt even worse about 1812. Was it really thanks to Canada that America did… a lot of the things he did? Was America so angry at Canada and England that he took it out on the world?

But it wasn't just 1812, was it? Canada thought mournfully, sniffing. There might have been the fact that Canada turned his back on him during the American Civil War… and that time when Canada made him cry (though was it really genuine?) after he pointed out every single thing wrong with him… and that time…

…Was it something else? Was it everything?

He also felt stupid, stupid, stupid for not really seeing how America interacted with the other liars involved. Canada remembered when England invited him to meet the 'troublesome little Asian brat' Hong Kong, and in an admittedly half-assed attempt to patch things up with America, invited him along too. Hong Kong… didn't really like Canada and kept scowling and glaring at him as he did with England, but he grew surprisingly close with America.

Canada also supposed he shouldn't be too surprised when it came to some of his fellow former colonies.

South Africa was… 'nice' enough, and was friendly, though he never really had forgiven Canada for helping England during the Boer Wars… hence why he usually approached Canada and England wearing a rugby uniform and a terrifying smile on his face, inviting them to 'a friendly game of rugby' while cracking his knuckles, whenever the anniversary of his defeat neared.

…M-Maybe he should change the topic.

U-Um, sure maybe Canada wasn't always the good brother, maybe Canada… made mistakes… horrible mistakes… but America made mistakes too! He made a lot of mistakes! M-More than Canada ever did in fact!

…How painful was it to feign affection and kindness to him? Canada wondered tearfully.

Has America ever done something to get back at Canada throughout the years? Maybe America acted so annoying with him and drove Canada crazy out of spite?

Maple! Canada squeaked in horror. Don't tell him that America somehow got a spell… or-or-or got someone with magic to cast a spell on him to caused Canada to be invisible and the others to forget he existed! Was America responsible for that too?! Was that his way of getting revenge?

"No, that was all you. Don't blame me for your blandness or misfortunes."

Canada's blood ran cold at the familiar voice. Could it be? No, no, it couldn't be him, his voice didn't sound so… so cold and serious and bitter. He gulped and slowly began to around, when something caught his attention in the window.

He blinked at the glass, where he could make out his reflection, but…

Canada's eyes went wide. There was someone standing behind him.

"Mathieu?"

Canada's heart nearly stopped, the figure immediately disappeared, and he nearly broke down in tears again.

"Papa?" Canada asked hesitantly, wiping the tears away with his sleeve.

He felt tremendous relief when his former caretaker quickly made his way towards him. No, scratch that, Canada felt over the moon to see France. He really needed someone to comfort him right now, and France was always there if Canada needed it.

"There you are, mon cher! For a moment I thought I was never going to find you." France gave a brief, breathless and humorless laugh, before frowning again. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible." Canada sobbed, failing to hold back his tears.

"Yes, well, I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one," The sarcastic voice of England remarked, and France turned around to find the man himself scowling at them, though he could tell from looking at his eyes that he had been crying too.

"Angletterre," France said grimly. "You're back."

England looked at France distastefully, as he always did. "What? Surprised to see me not drinking my sorrows away?"

"Very much, yes." France immediately nodded, though there was no smile on his face.

England's scowl became hideous. "Well, I appreciate the honesty, frog."

"I'll be honest with you, I thought you went to the nearest pub to drown in self-pity, as you often love to do," France said coolly, and Canada lightly nudged him in the shoulder just as England's face contorted in rage. "But-"

"Excuse me-"

"But… I'm glad to see that you haven't… for once."

"Francis… Arthur…" Canada attempted to get their attention as he trembled, knowing all too well from the way they were glaring at each other where this was going. "P-Please, this is not the time-"

"Don't assume I'll go get myself drunk every time I disappear to collect my thoughts, frog," England scowled in annoyance, and then muttered under his breath, "And besides, I only do that on the Fourth of July…"

France looked at him skeptically, not believing him for a second. "As well on the anniversary of Ireland's independence, the birthday of George III... Oh, and the birthdays of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and any other Founding Father or American human who played a crucial part in Amerique's independence-"

"Papa!" Canada admonished him.

"Oh, shut it, frog! I get it, for god's sake!" England shouted defensively, then he somewhat calmed down as he grabbed his tie. "And honestly, can you really blame me for getting upset over the wanker being stupid enough to get duped into that bloody organization?"

France glared at his direction. "What do you mean, Angleterre?"

"Don't play dumb, frog," England scoffed, then he looked at Canada with something akin to disappointment. "You too, Matthew. You should know better than to believe this nonsense.

Canada gaped, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, and neither did France, and it became his turn to feel furious. "You still don't believe? Despite all the proof presented-"

"Proof? You call your brat's diary and that little fan film proof?" England burst out in mocking and haughty laughter. "Don't make me laugh, frog."

"B-But, Arthur…" Canada piped up shakily. "How can-"

"It is proof, Arthur! You saw with your own eyes the true nature of those nations, and you even saw the leaders themselves!" France angrily shouted over Canada's meek voice. "And what about Alfred? Did you see the look in his eyes? How cold and indifferent he was? That is the look of a boy who would welcome the destruction of the world!"

"Oh, please, that film was probably recorded on the anniversary of the death of one of his favorite presidents, is all." England scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.

"If it was on the anniversary of a death, then wouldn't Alfred be home mourning instead of working?!"

"Well, it's not like I know what the wanker likes to do during those days!"

"So, you do admit that the footage is real?"

"Of course not, you wanker! Unlike you and Alfred, I'm not a fucking moron," England spat, and he crossed his arms. "Yes, that's exactly right. That idiot obviously can't even read the atmosphere, so it makes sense he'd be brain-dead enough to help this organization."

Despite everything, Canada felt his blood boil at the way he insulted America. "Hey, don't insult Al for all this. It's your fault that he's-"

"Well excuse me for believing legitimate evidence!" France retorted, once again cutting off Canada. "Oh, and in case you've forgotten, but I've had my own ex-colonies out for my head, so the notion that Amerique might be still angry at you isn't ridiculous!"

"Yes, it is, you bloody moron! He's too much of a wanker to hold a real grudge."

"That's why you refuse to believe any of this? Because you think Alfred is stupid?!" France exclaimed in disbelief, and he clenched his fists.

"That's right. As ungrateful and foolish as he is, he'd never have the gall to-"

"We all made mistakes, Anlglettere. We all played our part in making this happen, and Amerique made his choice long ago." France hissed with an anger Canada didn't think his brother was capable of. "He chose to stay angry at all of us. Perhaps he might have changed his mind if things were different, perhaps he wouldn't. But the point is that we are also responsible for this, but you won't accept it."

England snarled. "How dare you-"

"I understand your pain, Arthur, I really do." France said more calmly, and he then grimaced. "In case you've forgotten, I have my own ex-colonies after me. They gladly admitted their hatred of me, and they enjoyed torturing me. Frankly, it hurt both physically and emotionally. It hurt a lot. It's a harsh reality, I know, but denial won't do you any favors."

If it was possible, England became even more enraged. "Don't bloody patronize me, you wanker! You know nothing. I will never accept this!"

Canada gave up trying to reason with them, and dejectedly he watched them endlessly argue and scream at each other. Well, he could always snap and yell at them to shut up, that usually worked… Yeah, he should do that, eh?

But before he could, he saw him.

In the middle of the two screaming Europeans was America, standing there with hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, looking at Canada directly.

He smiled and waved at his brother. Canada nearly choked. France and England didn't seem to see America.

"A… Al…?" Canada barely managed to speak.

America didn't answer. He wasn't smiling anymore.

Canada tried waving his arms around to get a response from him, but all it accomplished was making him feel stupid and America to keep staring at him.

Just as Canada thought he was going crazy, America finally spoke.

"Can you feel the sins crawling on our backs?" America taunted with a blank look on his face, staring at Canada accusingly. "They do. I do. But what about you? Do you feel them? Or are you just gonna turn invisible and slip away unnoticed like always so that you can keep on playing the innocent twin?"

Canada tensed at the question, and his hands shakily went to his head, trying to block out America's voice. But can you block out hallucinations? Was he even a hallucination?

"Are you gonna keep deluding yourself like England here? Or are you gonna accept the truth like France did and take it like a man and accept responsibility?"

He's not there. He's not there. He's not there. None of this was happening.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, bro! Don't think that invisible stuff will work on me!"

Canada again tried to ignore him, hoping he'll eventually go away. He heard America scoff.

"Guess that answers the question."

/ / / / /

Estonia lost count of the amount of time he and Latvia had spent stuttering, stammering, sputtering and stumbling upon their words as they both tried, but failed, to register the shocking information Lithuania had just dumped on them like a pile of bricks. However, judging from the annoyed expression on the eldest Baltic's face and the sleepy look on the Vilnius girl, they'd been at it for quite a while.

Looking at the two, at this… Vilnius girl, it'd be hard to dispute the claim. After all, the little girl, Vilnius, Mari Laurinaitis, she… she was practically a near identical copy of a little Lithuania as Estonia kept repeating multiple times in his mind. It'd be stupid to say that there's no way those two weren't related.

But sorry, he just couldn't help it, and neither could Latvia. So, they just kept doing what they've been doing.

"But she-

"How is that-"

"That can't-"

"Why does she-

"THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!" They both exclaimed at the same time, and Lithuania face-palmed.

"I should've known I'd get this reaction…" Lithuania muttered, then took a deep calming breath before softening his expression. "I know this seems like a whole load of nonsense that I'm throwing at you out of nowhere."

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS!"

Lithuania's eye twitched, but he kept his calm expression. "Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but what you do have to believe is that Mari right here is my little sister, our little sister, and I'd appreciate it if you don't hold it against her."

Estonia winced and once again looked at the shy young girl clutching Lithuania's arm staring at the two strange panicky new nations with uncertainty. The girl, no, Vilnius was obviously nervous, but she didn't look like she didn't want to be here. She seemed genuinely curious about her family.

Reluctantly, Estonia tried to swallow his curiosity and offered the girl a shaky smile.

"So, this really is… the personification of your capital?" Estonia asked carefully, adjusting his glasses.

"That's correct," Lithuania nodded, and Vilnius shifted. "The very first and only of her kind."

"And are there more capitals?"

"No, she's the only one."

"B-But how can she exist? I-I-It's supposed to be impossible!" Latvia stuttered and still trembling nervously.

"Well, as you can see, it really isn't." Lithuania said gesturing towards Vilnius.

"And you promise that this little clone of you is really your capit-"

"Yes! For the last time, yes!" Lithuania yelled in irate anger, causing the other two Baltics to shrink back in terror, but he then calmed down. "As for how that's possible or why she exists… that's classified, so I can't tell you."

"But-

"Enough," Lithuania said firmly, shutting up the Baltics again, and he sighed. "I don't want to hear any more questions. I'm sorry for being rude, but I'm not in the mood for this. So, I'll be taking my leave now."

"WHAT?!" The Baltics, and even Vilnius herself, shouted, and Lithuania groaned.

"Why can't you stay here with us?" Vilnius shrieked in alarm, looking on the verge of panic, staring up at Lithuania with those big cute eyes of hers. "I-I'm sure it'll be no trouble!"

Lithuania opened his mouth to respond, but then he widened his eyes and closed it. "W-Well… I-I-I…"

"I wanted all of us to start becoming a family together!" Vilnius cried, and Estonia began to feel bad for the girl.

"I-I… it's because I… have to go the bathroom of course!" Lithuania quickly spouted out, forcing a weak, trembling and unconvincingly confident smile "Yes, the bathroom. I won't take long, you'll see. Well, Vilnius, I trust you can get along with them?"

Vilnius paled and began to stutter like Latvia. "W-W-Wait! T-Toris-"

"You three have fun!" Lithuania barely managed to exclaim before he sped off. "Scream if you need me!"

And so, they were left alone.

"Wow! Even the real Lithuania sucks at excuses!" Latvia exclaimed.

/ / / / /

You know, for some reason, Mauritius's feeling really pissed off right now.

…That was sarcasm, but at the same time, it's not. There's this strange feeling of pure rage in his mind that's been bothering him for a while. He couldn't remember when or how it appeared, but it was just there, and it didn't sit well with him.

It's… kind of hard to explain it.

Sure, he's been feeling really upset and angry (really, who wouldn't be in his shoes?), not to mention bored, and he's pretty sure that he's gradually beginning to lose his sanity with only the arrogant prick known as Switzerland there to keep him company (and he ignored Mauritius 75% of the time), but he didn't remember feeling borderline murderous.

Rage was an emotion Mauritius hardly ever felt, since it's usually hard to set him off (unless it's Comoros, or recently, the New World Order) and he didn't like getting angry. That's the type of person he was. So, he didn't like this one bit. To make it even worse, he didn't know who or what he's angry.

But whatever this was, it's not directed at Switzerland.

And he had no idea why.

N-Now that he thought about it, Mauritius realized that's he's not feeling as angry at Switzerland than he did a while ago. In fact, it's getting a little hard feeling angry at him. The feeling of annoyance was still there, but still…! Mauritius felt himself pale, and if his hands weren't being bound by restraints, they would have gone up to both sides of his head.

No, no, this didn't have to do with the brainwashing and the conditioning and all that, right?! He couldn't be…

…right? He wasn't caving in, right? Right? Right?

No. He wasn't feeling any kind of bloodlust or a sudden craving for human flesh, and he wasn't getting giddy over the idea of torture, so he was okay.

The past… whatever much time that's passed since Switzerland decided to get serious… was kind of a blur to him. He vaguely remembered music… wait, no, that wasn't music… probably… but he could be wrong. But anyway, there was music, Switzerland said a few words and… Huh, did he zone out at some point? Or did he fall asleep? Well, whatever. After that, Mauritius remembered pain and-

Mauritius grunted as he felt something smack him on the head and came face to face with Switzerland with a disapproving frown and a clipboard in his hands.

"I've been notified in advance, thank goodness, that some of your fellow nations in Africa will be here soon to check on our progress," Switzerland coldly informed him. "And no doubt to give me an earful when they find that Lili is still here, so please, don't… do anything when you hear gunshots and screaming. If you do, then I'll extend the session as punishment."

Mauritius wanted to spit out a snarky response, but all he managed was a weak glare before his head dropped again, he's too tired to express his animosity.

Wait a minute, what?!

But then he did a double take, and he suddenly found himself having enough energy to sputter.

"W-Wait a minute!" Mauritius stuttered, which he mentally kicked himself for, gaping at Switzerland in horror. "They're coming back?!"

Switzerland quirked an eyebrow at the delayed reaction. "That's what I just said."

"And you're letting them come over?!"

"I have no authority over them. And besides, you should have learned that when it comes to the Five, when they want something, they'll get it." Switzerland growled, and turned around towards the desk, setting down the clipboard. "Doesn't mean I don't try to keep them in line. Besides, we should be glad that they were gone longer than I thought they'd be."

Mauritius groaned. Great, just great.

/ / / / /

Germany was left with a hollow feeling in his heart when he found out about Prussia, as one would expect.

This was all… very hard to accept. Not to mention very hard to deal with. Mein Gott, this meant that nations will die…

He still didn't truly understand why Prussia decided to lie to him, or why he did what he did, but now Germany didn't think he could ever forgive him, especially considering what his subordinates have done. Germany also didn't think he could change Prussia's mind, if he tried. He had no doubt that the real Prussia would be just as stubborn as the fake one.

But his time here alone with his thoughts, along with asking 'how?' and 'why?' repeatedly in his mind, desperately trying to search for a logical answer for this madness, the comfort and reassurance Italy and Japan gave him, did help him get his act together.

He was far from feeling happy or alright, of course. The betrayal was still hurting him, and probably will for a long time, and no number of hugs or offers of pasta from Italy could change that. But now Germany had his priorities straight. Whether he liked or not, this was their reality, and if they refuse to acknowledge this, then they were all going get killed. Prussia's probably banking on that.

Well, brother or not, Germany had a duty to his nation and the world.

He's hellbent on keeping the promise he made to himself years ago.

There must not be another World War.

Whew! This was a tough chapter to write. I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter should be the last one for the arc, and then we can finally get more action! Please review if you have a minute.